


pedal to the floor.

by kbelle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbelle/pseuds/kbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this wonderful prompt:</p><p>A high school AU wherein the five boys live in the suburbs of Anaheim, California, and spend a lot of time desperate to get a car. They make do though with bikes, skateboards, and the very rare lift from their parents. They often go exploring and smoke a lot of weed. They live close to the beach and not too far from Disneyland, which they've figured out a way to sneak into when it's closed (maybe one of them works there and is able to get them inside? Oh man, I can totally see Harry, Niall, or Liam working some small job at Disneyland. Though Liam would never go for that kind of rebelliousness). Harry and Louis should meet in the fic, possibly because Harry moves into the neighborhood? Louis and Niall should both play soccer in school, although whether or not they/their team is any good I'll leave up to you. I also don't know what would be more fun, if they were all rich suburbanites or came from working class families. Maybe some mix of the two. So that's yours as well!</p>
            </blockquote>





	pedal to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zanyemajik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanyemajik/gifts).



> Dearest story giftee (hubbahazza). I'm so sorry that this is shorter than it probably should be, and missing so much from the prompt. My time management is rubbish and I ended up quite rushed towards the end. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy what's there. And if you'd like me to add to it at a later date (since the ending is relatively open) I am ENTIRELY open and somewhat enthusiastic about the idea. 
> 
> Just message me and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Hope you like it at least a little x
> 
> PS. Would love to thank J, my lovely beta, for pointing out my ridiculous love for commas in the wrong places.
> 
> PPS. Title taken from "California" by Phantom Planet.

Waking up in Anaheim during June feels a little like dying from heat exhaustion before you’ve even made it out of bed. At least that’s what Louis thinks as he rolls his sweaty body out from under the tangle of sheets.

He wishes he had an excuse for the sticky grossness that’s clinging to him like an extra layer of sheen; it would be alright if there was an equally sticky naked boy who was responsible for making him so revoltingly hot. But no, this sweaty nastiness he has created all by himself. Well, between himself and Anaheim. To be specific, the unbearable heat that is Anaheim in June – unfortunately he doesn’t think that his sweaty mess is the result of him and any hot boy called ‘Anaheim’ having a great romp in the sheets last night.  Louis shakes his head slightly… what even _is_ his mind?

Swinging his legs out of the bed, his slips on the first pair of boxers he can find on the floor. The partition sheet separating his side of the bedroom from Lottie and Fizz’s has fallen slightly, and he blearily hopes that he hasn’t unknowingly scarred them for life by showing them his man-parts.

Cracking his back, he stumbles towards the bathroom. His mouth tastes a small animal has decided to curl up and die inside, and his head pounds. Probably what happens when you mix Vodka and Tequila, he thinks regretfully. 

He can hear his sisters’ high-pitched giggles, the babies gurgling, plates clanging together, the toaster popping, and even the Mexican neighbours’ music filtering through the paper-thin walls: the sweet symphony of a Saturday morning in the Tomlinson-Deakin household. As usual, he’ll be the last one up and as usual, he’ll be left with whatever remnants no one else wanted from breakfast. Last week it had been half a banana and cornflakes with water since the girls had used the last of the milk. It’s a hard knock life being the oldest of seven.

He’s broken from his thoughts by a sharp rap on the bathroom door.

“Looooooou-iiiiiis, I’ve gotta weeeeeee!”

Louis sighs and settles for splashing his face quickly with some cold water, running his fingers through his messy bed-head.

“Just a minute Daisy!” he yells back through the door.

There is nothing practical about sharing one bathroom between nine people, especially when six of said people are small humans who have no regard when it comes to letting someone else finish. The word “sharing” is used very loosely in the Tomlinson-Deakin household, and in Louis’ case it more means stepping aside in every given situation in order to let his younger siblings take more than their fair share.

“No, NOW Lou, I HAVE to go!”

He can hear the frantic panic squeaking through her little voice, and the last thing he wants is to be responsible for one of the twins creating a puddle (again), so he quickly unlocks the door and sidesteps as she rushes into the loo, not even shutting the door in her haste.

He smiles wryly to himself, closing the door for her on his way to the kitchen.

“Good morning wonderful family! Good morning wonderful mother!” Louis smacks a big kiss on his mum’s cheek, smiling brightly as she turns from where she’s feeding Ernie to raise her eyebrows at him.

He doesn’t break his smile, widening his blue eyes innocently as she narrows hers at him.

Unfortunately she’s seen through his ruse before he’s even gotten properly warmed up. “You’re still babysitting Lou… No getting out of it this time, sorry darling. Dan and I have had this getaway planned for months, and no matter who’s having a party tonight, you’re staying here with the kids.” She at least manages to look apologetic as she says it, but her words still manage to wipe the bright smile off his face.

Louis flicks his fringe, preparing for Plan B of the argument. “But Mum, Niall is-“

“Don’t care what Niall is doing, you’re staying here. Babysitting. You. Here. Tonight. Babysitting.” She locks eyes with him, icy blue meeting equally icy blue. She’s dead serious and her tone betrays no argument. She’s had her word and it’s final.

“Fine.” Louis stomps his feet a little as he rounds the table, stopping to swipe a muffin from the middle of the table. He doesn’t care if he’s being childish, it’s his life and he’ll live it how he likes. And that too, is final.

 

 

 

 It’s far too hot to be practicing football so Louis has resorted to lying in the grass instead, shaded by a giant oak tree in the corner of the park with his two best mates. It’s surprisingly quiet for a weekend, no kids in sight, the only noise coming from a couple yelling in Latino from a nearby house.

“…’ve gotta get to work soon.” Niall’s drawls lazily. It seems that the greater the heat, the thicker Niall’s Irish accent becomes. If Louis could be bothered speaking, he’d hassle him for it. For now, it’s too hot to breathe, let alone speak.

A shadow falls over him as Liam props himself on his elbow, looking over at Niall with a small frown. “Today? I thought you were only working Monday to Friday at The Big D”

“The Big D” is what their small group have taken to calling Niall’s latest employment, which is more commonly known as Disneyland. However, while Disneyland is regarded by most as the happiest place on earth, The Big D is more realistically known as another name for hell – at least for Niall.

Honestly, the stories that Niall comes back with… Louis thinks that Niall must be up for a sainthood from some of the stuff that he puts up with: small children wanting photos with him – or Peter Pan as he is at the Big D - and promptly puking all over him; screaming brats trying to pull out his hair and shatter his eardrums all in one go; demanding parents who don’t know the meaning of no. God, Louis knows he would have committed homicide at least once. Probably multiple times in all reality. Hell, he’d probably be a serial killer by now. But somehow, Niall manages to hang in there.

Maybe it’s the hope of having a car that’s keeping him going – they’ve all dreamed about getting cars since they were beginning High School - but Louis doesn’t think he’d even be able to carry on for the hallowed car. Niall Horan is a stronger man than he.

Niall sits up slowly, trying to put his blonde tips into some semblance of order. “Yeah, ‘twas only meant to be weekdays but I’m covering for Zayn.” A twinge of a blush creeps onto the Irish boy’s cheeks, and it’s not something Louis misses.

Screw the heat, he can’t miss out on hassling Niall about this one. “Oooooooh Zayn ay?” He clears his throat, putting on his best Irish accent. “Oh YES ZAYN, I’D LOVE TO WORK YOUR SHIFT! LET ME WORK YOUR SHIFT AND YOUR SHAFT ZAYN! OH YES ZAYN! ZAYN! ZAAAAAAYN!” Louis moans obscenely to cap off his little speech, fanning himself like a damsel in distress while Liam hoots in the background. His Irish accent could use a little work, but his Niall impression is pretty damn good if he does say so himself.

Niall has gone beet red and is standing up with a huff, glaring daggers at the both of them. “Har bloody har,” he glowers, wrinkling his nose.

It would be far more daunting if he didn’t look so much like a put out puppy which just serves to make Louis and Liam laugh even harder. Poor Niall. What did he ever do to deserve such terrible friends?

After gathering his breath a little, Louis picks himself up off the ground to hug the still-glaring Niall. Niall, being the human dog that he is, can’t help but nuzzle into Louis’ neck a little, even if he is still grumpy. “’s not funny,” he thinks he hears Niall mutter into his neck.

Louis doesn’t trust himself to respond without laughing so just continues to hug Niall, Liam joining in a few seconds later and turning it into a dog pile. They’re a laughing mess of limbs on the ground and it’s just so them. In the moment, Louis is reminded that as shit as his life is, he loves his boys.

“Love you guys” he mumbles, face pressed into the grass. He’s pretty sure that Liam is somewhere under his armpit (poor lad) and he can feel Niall’s toes digging into his butt. But there is nowhere he would rather be than right here with his boys. He takes a deep breath, savouring the moment.

“Fuck- oh fuck, fuck, Niall, you CUNT, did you just fart- oh my fucking God, that is so bad, get me out- oh my God”. Louis scrambles up as quickly as he can, untangling himself from the pile of arms and legs. Niall is cackling like a mad-man and Liam looks plain horrified. It isn’t long until Louis is laughing too, just from the look on Liam’s face.

Soon they’re all laughing again, struggling to breathe: Niall is doubled over still cackling like the evil little witch he is, Liam is rolling round the ground with tears in his eyes, and Louis is laughing so hard his eyes are reduced to thin slits he can barely see out of.

“Fuck off Niall, fuck off to The Big D” he manages to gasp out once the air is actually getting to his lungs.

Niall slowly straightens himself up, pulling out his mobile and checking the time. “Shit, yeah, ‘m gonna be late. You guys up for getting pissed later tonight?”

Liam nods as Louis shakes his head ruefully. “Babysitting. Promised Mum months ago I’d do tonight and I can’t get out of it now. Sorry boys…”

“Tomorrow night then, eh Lou?” Liam smiles at him kindly.

He stands up to wipe the grass off his ripped jeans. “Yeah for sure. Knock a few back for me though yeah?”

Niall just salutes, while Liam grins up at him from the ground. Louis knows that he’s just given Niall an excuse to help himself to at least 4 more drinks – he’ll claim he’s drinking his own AND Louis’ share. Louis approves wholeheartedly. He also knows that Liam, being far too responsible, will end up drinking his Coca Cola all evening instead. They love him anyway, God knows why.

Niall heads off at a jog, dollars of bus money clinking in his pocket while Liam sensibly places his bike helmet over his carefully constructed Bieber hair. He looks like such a dweeb riding his shiny red bicycle, Louis thinks fondly, grabbing his skateboard from its perch against the tree.

Each heading off in separate directions, they promise to text and catch up tomorrow – no doubt for even more shenanigans. In the meantime, he has a household full of screaming children to take care of for the night: he can’t wait. Oh well, at least he’ll get paid a few bucks and be a few steps closer to his much dreamed-about car.

 

 

 

Louis is seven hours into his nine hour day at Toys R Us, and the remaining two hours can’t go fast enough. He’s currently crouching in an aisle of dolls, all of them staring at him with big accusing eyes as he stealthily flicks off a text to Niall.

“No phones on the shop floor Tomlinson!”

… Okay, so maybe his methods aren’t quite as stealthy as he’d like them to be, but he’s at least making an effort to be inconspicuous. Ignoring the glare of his boss, he hoists himself up, rolling his eyes while jamming the offending phone into his back pocket. Plastering a sugary sweet smile on his face, he turns to give the same apology he does every time this happens.

“I’m so _sorry_ Marcia, but there’s a family emergency and I need to be available whenever Mum needs me. You understand don’t you?” Widening his eyes to their full effect, he thinks he pulls of the faux-innocent look very well.

Marcia just huffs and stalks away. Louis one, Marcia nil.

Louis has lost count of all the times he’s been described as a little shit. In all honest, he finds that it’s probably a very accurate assessment of his personality; he’s wonderfully manipulative, and knows how to play people like fiddles. Now and again he muses about putting his skills to use and becoming a politician, but then remembers that would require actual work.

There’s a buzzing coming from his pocket again – most likely a reply from Niall. Crouching back down into a similar position to before, he slips his phone out of his jeans.

_Ya defo still up t hang. Zayn invitin us all ova to his 2nite if u wana go 2 th Hills?_

Louis’ eyebrows fly up into his hairline. While he’s heard a lot about this Zayn character, Niall seems to have withheld very important information thus far. Such as, that Zayn comes from Anaheim Hills.

 _How rich exactly is Zayn?_ he texts back, straightening a few toys on the shelf. Niall’s response comes several minutes later in the form of an emoji of a monkey covering its eyes. Louis thinks that it may represent something under the lines of ‘see no evil’ but he can’t be sure, and he has no idea how it’s meant to relate to how well off Zayn happens to be.

Pausing to chew on his bottom lip, Louis weighs up his options.

On one hand he could tag along for the ride – the metaphorical ride that is, since there is no way his mum (or Niall’s, or Liam’s for that matter) will be willing to drop him over on the other side of town – and play the role of the supportive friend, and check out Niall’s new beau.  The only downside to this plan is the potential that Zayn and his clan of friends could turn out to be a bunch of snobby hipster wankers. Not exactly his idea of a good time.

On the other hand, he could grab Liam and maybe Stan and Eleanor, pick up some good weed with some cheap beer and- no. Just… no. Louis cuts his thoughts off abruptly, realising how shit of a friend he’s being.

He has known Niall since they were literally in diapers. Louis’ family and Niall’s had been the only two in their block of houses that actually spoke English. Being surrounded by a cultural melting pot of Mexicans, Spaniards and Brazilians, the only two English-speaking families on the block had been drawn towards each other.

The two boys came from very different backgrounds; Niall, his dad and his brother had emigrated from Ireland when Niall was only a toddler. As a child, he’d been a happy wee creature, constantly ruddy-faced and laughing, like a little cherub whose cheeks just begged to be squished. Louis likes to think that such is their bond, that they were playing good cop and bad cop even back then.

Louis as a little boy had been the ebony to Niall’s ivory (still is if he’s being honest). While Niall has always had a certain ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth’ quality, Louis has been creating mischief since the moment he popped out of the womb. His mum, being only a teenager herself, had struggled to keep little Louis out of trouble. Luckily in most of Louis’ hare-brained schemes, he’d had Niall around to widen his baby-blues and bust them both out of trouble.

One of his most fond memories is as four and five year olds, stealing Lottie’s favourite doll and cutting all its hair off. Of course Lottie had gone running to his mum in tears and of course Jay had come storming into the room cursing, ready to erupt. She’d glared at Louis, opening her mouth to start a tirade of telling-offs and punishments but had been distracted by a small tug on her pant leg only to look down and meet Niall’s tear-filled eyes. The hair-cutting had been Louis’ evil genius plan of course. But Niall had known how to wrap people round his pinky finger even back then. Letting a few tears trickle down his cheeks, he’d looked up at Jay with big sad cow eyes and hiccupped out in his little Irish brogue, “It was my fault Mrs Tomlinson… I made Lou do it. I wanted to make the dolly beautiful”. Jay had been at a loss for words. Louis distinctly remembers her standing in the doorway fish-mouthing as a far-too-clever-for-his-age small Niall Horan managed to wiggle them both out of any punishment. As he’s gotten older, he’s only learnt to hone his craft even more – getting them out of far more severe punishments, and somehow always managing to look squeaky clean.

Hell, even his boss at The Big D loves him. Like, adores him. Thinks the sun shines out of his Irish ass. To the point where he hasn’t cared the copious amounts of time that he’s found Niall inside the park after hours, usually in the possession of illegal drugs, and usually in the company of others – such as Louis himself – who aren’t even employees of Disneyland.

Louis snorts to himself. He has absolutely no idea how Niall does it but he most definitely loves him all the more for it. And it’s not very often that Niall really likes someone so for his sake, Louis most definitely needs to man up and get his arse to Zayn’s shin-dig tonight.

_Ok then… where am I going?_

It’s only a couple of seconds before his phone buzzes again with an address. Louis has no idea where the house is, but he figures he’ll google map it and pray that it doesn’t take hours to skateboard there.

Pocketing his phone, he returns to the toys on the shelf, fiddling idly with one of the toy keyboards. He has a weird feeling about tonight and he’s really hoping it’s not at all warranted.

 

 

Zayn lives in a mansion.

Also, Louis is soaked and thinks he must resemble something akin to a drowned rat

Also, also, the gate to said mansion is not opening and has not been opening for the past four minutes. 

Also, also, also, Louis is getting wetter by the second thanks to said gate to said mansion not opening for the past four minutes, and is getting more and more frustrated.

Louis _hates_ rich people.

Jabbing a finger onto the buzzer for the umpteenth time, Louis glances at his phone to double check the address. He’s definitely at the right place just… there’s no answer. There are clearly people home given that there are lights on inside, but no one is answering the gate. He dials Niall’s number again, pressing his phone tight to his shoulder to try and stop the rain from drenching it. It’s a crappy enough phone as is without it being water damaged too.

“Hi, you’ve reached Niall’s phone. You can leave a message if ye want but I’ll prolly not check it anyway so better luck next time eh?”

Louis ends the call with a groan, leaning his head against the metal bars of the gate. Should he just turn around and go home? After all, he’s miserable and soaked and doesn’t particularly want to drip all over the marble floors of the Castle Zayn.

Throwing down his skateboard, he’s just beginning to turn around when he’s blinded by a car lights coming straight for him. There’s a scream lodged in his throat but it has no chance to come out before he feels his back being slammed against the gate with a sickening crunch. His body curls in on itself, flopping to the ground like a rag-doll as he struggles to breathe.

“Holy shi- Oh my God- oh- shit! Shit. Fuck man- Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry. Shit fucking shit. Are you alright? Oh my- you’re alive right? Oh thank God, you’re alive. Fuck- ….Zayn! Zayn I need you to open your gate right now. I’ve just hit a guy in your drive.  Zayn just open the fucking gate, come down now! Right now! Shit…. Love, can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?”

Everything is blurry in Louis’ head. He’s vaguely aware that there’s a strange boy who happens to smell very nice (he thinks he can smell apples and cinnamon maybe?) crouched in front of him and holding up fingers in front of his face. Louis thinks he might like to bite the fingers or maybe kiss them but he’s not sure. They’re very nice looking fingers.

Louis also thinks that it’s very good that the gate is finally opening. Who knew it only took being hit by a car to get into Zayn’s mansion?

“Can you hear me love? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Louis looks up at Apple & Cinnamon boy, trying to focus. “Three?” he questions hesitantly.

Three is apparently the correct number because Apple & Cinnamon lets out a relieved-sounding breath. “I am so so so sorry. I didn’t see you there and I was in a rush because I was late and – oh God that’s no excuse I know. I’m so sorry.”

Earnest green eyes are blinking down at him, and Louis thinks that if ‘sorry’ was an emoji, it would look frighteningly like the stranger in front of him does right now.

 Aside from being a potential manslaughter-er (if that’s even a word) Apple & Cinnamon is quite pretty actually. He has eyes the colour of a forest full of pine trees, rich chocolate curls that look delectable enough to eat and skin so creamy it belongs in an ad for… cream?

“…Um. Thank you?”

Oh hell. Judging from the blush that is rapidly rising up the boy’s face and the grin he looks to be trying to bite down, it appears that Louis may have spoken his last thoughts out loud. Great, now he’s waxing poetic about creamy cream skin. Fuck his life.

“Oh my God Harry, how the hell did you manage to hit him?”

“Lou!?! What the fuck happened?”

“Do we need to get an ambulance!?”

Louis swivels his head to the new voices arriving and immediately regrets his decision. His neck sears with pain at the motion and he groans, realising just how much his whole body is aching.

To make matters worse, the rain is coming down even harder now and his thin t-shirt is doing little to keep out the chill. His teeth chatter together slightly and he’s thankful for Niall wrapping him in a warm hug, thin arms reaching right around him. He feels Niall place a light kiss onto his head and sinks back into the touch, trusting that Niall will take care of him.

He’s only partially aware of what happens after that. The voices around him seem to bicker for a few minutes – something about whether it’s okay to move someone after an accident or not – before he feels strong arms lift him up and carry him towards the house. He knows it’s not Niall; Niall can barely piggyback him let alone carry him bridal style. And it’s definitely not Liam because he can hear Liam’s incessant nagging coming from further behind. Leaning in to the stranger’s chest, Louis gets a strong whiff of apple and cinnamon before he relaxes and just lets it all go black.

 

 

 

 

God is asleep on Louis’ bed.

He never knew before that God looked like an _actual Greek_ god; had always assumed that the Greek gods had all just been myths and that the real all-powerful God was closer to an intangible spirit than the living breathing Apollo that is peacefully resting next to his legs right now.

Shifting slightly, Louis groans at the aching pain radiating from his middle. He also doesn’t think there’s meant to be any pain in heaven. Apparently all his assumptions about the afterlife have been incorrect thus far. Unless he’s in hell? Maybe God’s banished him for all the times he’s been mean to his little sisters – countless times. In that case, he guesses that explains the pain (fiery pits of hell and all of that, yadda yadda yadda…).

“Oh thank God, you’re awake.”

The voice has come from his right and it takes every ounce of energy in Louis’ body just to turn his head to the source.

And there he is leaning over Louis’ face: Apple & Cinnamon boy, green frog eyes staring at him with obvious concern.

So apparently he hasn’t made it to the afterlife then. Damn.

Instead, taking in his surroundings, he figures he is most likely in a hospital. With his potential manslaughterer (once again, is that even a word!?), a human reincarnation of Apollo, and if the loud snoring coming from behind him is any indication, Liam. Where the hell Niall has fucked off to, he has no idea.

“Do you remember what happened?” Apple & Cinnamon is now biting his lip anxiously shifting his froggy-eyes between Louis’ face and his toes. It’s like he wants to look Louis in the eye but is too ashamed or guilty or something. Louis supposes this makes sense since he did practically kill him after all.

“I remember that you tried to kill me with your fancy-ass car.” It comes out more accusatory than Louis means, and he watches the boy’s face fall into something that resembles one of a kicked puppy.

“I know. I really am terribly sorry. It was foolish and careless of me. Of course, I’ll pay any medical bills. Ongoing if necessary. And I’ll understand if you report me to the police. I deserve it. I’m just really glad you’re alive Louis.” His voice is deep and unbearably low, like he’s carefully choosing each word before speaking, sincerity dripping from every sentence.

Louis feels like a terrible person. He _is_ a terrible person. Honestly, he may be the one that’s been hurt physically in this scenario, but he feels like he’s emotionally wounded this poor pigeon-toed creature standing before him. It’s his fault for the dejected expression gracing this sweet stranger’s face.

An uncomfortable pause comes between them. The boy shuffles his feet a little, eyes never leaving the ground. Louis has to fix this.

“What’s your name?” He softens his voice a little and it apparently does the trick since Apple & Cinnamon lifts his head slightly, directing a confused frown Louis’ way.

“Um… Harry?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Louis attempts to grin then grimaces as he feels his side cramp up more.

“Tellling you,” Harry responds with a small smile. “Do you need any more pillows? Or water? Or I can move Zayn for you if you like… He falls asleep anywhere, and doesn’t wake up for anything… I’m sorry if he’s bothering you…”

Huh. So Apollo is actually Zayn. Louis must remind to congratulate Niall later for his impeccable taste in men.

“You know you can’t make up for hitting me with your car by bringing me a pillow or moving your friend, right?”

Harry’s face crumples again and Louis curses himself inwardly.

 Fuck. Usually Louis prides himself on being able to wipe the smirk off any jackass’ face in seconds. And Harry is undoubtedly a jackass if the pretentious hipster way he’s dressed and his ridiculous car is anything to go by. God, what kind of teenager drives a Bentley? “The kind you’ll never be” the voice in his head mocks.

Louis scrubs a hand across his lips. His mouth is dry, his eyes hurt, his torso is in pain. Everything is sore. And just to add to his problems, there’s an emotionally fragile boy standing next to his bed, looking like he’s just been told that Santa isn’t real.

Louis blames Niall. This is all Niall’s fault. If there were something heavy close enough to throw, Louis would throw it at Niall and take joy at the pain flashing across his stupid little Irish face.

“I-I…I’m-“ Harry is struggling to spit out a sentence and Louis doesn’t really want to hear it anyway so he raises his hand as a signal to stop.

“Listen, Harry. I know you’re sorry. And it’s not your fault, really. Like you said, I’m going to be okay. Nothing a bit of rest won’t fix, right?” Forcing out a smile, Louis gives Harry what he thinks probably translates to a kind look.

Harry responds with a worried frown, pink tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. Louis struggles not to be endeared. Who even is this man-child?

“Really, it’s alright. Stop beating yourself up about it, you’re starting to make _me_ feel bad with your kicked-puppy looks. And I shouldn’t be feeling bad. Everyone should be feeling bad for me instead. I should be the centre of everyone’s attention. I am King Louis after all!”

Louis sticks his nose high in the air, putting on a pompous accent and doing his best impression of royalty. King Louis has a very nice ring to it he thinks… sounds a bit familiar too – was there a King Louis in France at some point? He can’t quite remember. He thinks his impression is pretty funny anyway.

Harry seems to agree if the snort he lets out is anything to go by. And again Louis finds himself thinking _who even is this boy!?_  A snorting aristocrat apparently.

“Well then King Louis, what can I get for your Royal Highness?”

Harry’s British accent is terrible; quite possibly the worst Louis has heard in his life (and that’s including his seven year old sisters’ attempts). Louis isn’t sure whether it’s the painkillers that they undoubtedly have him on, or if it’s just the hilarity of the situation, but he finds himself giggling ridiculously, painful ribs rattling with every burst of laughter.

Harry is grinning like a proud Cheshire cat and – oh Lordie – he has _dimples._ Cute little craters dug in both cheeks, just begging Louis to poke his fingers into them.

Louis clears his throat, thinking up a clever retort when he’s distracted by movement. It seems that Apollo – Zayn, he corrects in his head – is waking, and if at all possible he’s managing to look even more god-like as he flutters his eyes open.

“Wow.” He doesn’t mean to say it, he swears he doesn’t, but it just pops out. Zayn isn’t his type at all, fits the tall-dark-and-handsome profile while Louis is more likely to go for boyish charm any day of the week. But it would take a blind man not to notice how gorgeous Zayn is. With his cheekbones that look like they could cut glass, and deep soulful brown eyes, he wouldn’t be an ounce out of place on any runway.

Blinking sleepily, Zayn just looks confused. Harry however, has an odd little pout on his face, pink lips pushed together in a frown. He looks like a grumpy kitten… and Louis really needs to stop comparing Harry’s facial expressions to baby animals.

“Hello Zayn.” Louis tries to sound as friendly as possible as to not scare off Niall’s latest crush. Hit by a car or not, Niall will still eat Louis for breakfast if he ruins whatever odd mating ritual has been going on between himself and Zayn at the Big D.

Zayn runs his fingers lazily through his hair, pushing his drooping quiff up to full height. For a guy who’s just had someone hit in his driveway, he seems entirely unperturbed. In fact, if Louis isn’t mistaken, Zayn is now grabbing his phone off the bedside table and checking his appearance in its reflection. He’s beginning to understand why Zayn plays Prince Eric at Disneyland: not only is he as handsome as a Disney Prince, he’s also as vain as one.

Once it seems he’s finally deemed his appearance presentable, he offers Louis a hand to shake. “Hi, nice to meet you. Niall’s told me lots about you.”

Louis raises a single eyebrow. There are so many things wrong with this. One, why does Zayn speak like a bored robot? Two, what’s with the hand shaking? They’re not in 15th century Britain. And three, what the fuck has Niall been telling Zayn about him for?

Zayn seems to realise that the hand shaking is a no go, and shrugs a shoulder before withdrawing his hand and glancing with a curious expression between Harry and Louis. “I take it you two have met then too?”

Louis smiles wryly. “Do you mean before or after he tried to run me over with his car?”

Harry huffs out a breath, looking back down at his scuffed brown boots. For a rich boy, he really doesn’t seem to be all that confident. From Louis’ past experience with rich Hills boys, they’re all arrogant sods, full of themselves and always ready with a quick retort. So far, Harry hasn’t come across at all like that.

Zayn continues to glance between the two of them, a small smile twitching on his lips. “Always been a bit clumsy our Harry… has two left feet but is usually only a hazard to his own safety. You must be a special one Louis if he’s willing to take you out as well.”

There’s a sharp glint in Zayn’s eye that betrays him; clearly he’s not just a good little rich boy. There’s a rogue streak in there, and Louis thinks that Zayn will be _very_ fun to get to know.

“Aw, cheer up Haz… ‘m only teasing.” The more Zayn talks, the brighter red Harry turns. There’s a blush creeping from right up his neck onto the tips of his cheekbones, flushing his face a lovely crimson.

“Shut up, it was an accident.” Harry is whining like a child, and Louis would be disgusted if he wasn’t still so fucking endeared. This boy is quite simply adorable.

“Have you called my mum?” The thought occurs to Louis quite suddenly that it’s getting late and his mum will be wondering where he is. If she doesn’t already know, he should probably give her the common decency of letting her know her first-born is in the hospital after surviving a near-death experience.

Louis looks at them expectantly, receiving only blank stares in return.

“Why would we call your mum?” Harry finally says, confused furrow on his brow.

Okay so now Louis is adequately confused. Unless Niall has been lying to him, Zayn is only 18 – same age as him, and only a year older than Niall and Liam. And by the looks of Harry, he can’t be any older than 17 himself. What kind of 17 year old doesn’t feel the need to inform their own mother if they’ve been in an accident?

Louis repeats this sentiment out loud, and an awkward silence falls over the room. Zayn and Harry seem to share a loaded look before Zayn finally speaks up. “You can use my phone to call her if you like. I don’t have her number though so you might have to get it off Ni or Liam? Think your phone might be a bit waterlogged.”

Great, just what he needs. A broken phone too. Fan-fucking-tabulous.

Louis holds out his hand for Zayn’s phone expectantly just as Niall comes barrelling through the door at a rate of knots. Upon seeing Louis sitting up and awake, he makes straight for the bedside and clambers on top of the covers, draping himself all over his best friend. Louis struggles away as Niall plants kisses all over his face, muttering something about him being a cunt for giving them all such a scare.

Personally, Louis fails to see how it’s _his_ fault that he was hit by a car and “gave them all such a scare” but he can’t find the energy to argue. Plus, Niall is like a little ball of sunshine, making everything happy and okay in the room.

In all of his noise and disturbance, Niall’s managed to wake up Liam too, so now all five of them are awake in the small room, various conversations going on all at once. Zayn and Harry are crammed into the far corner, whispering quietly – about what Louis has no idea, while Liam is fretting over Louis like a mother hen, and Niall seems to just be trying to smother him in love.

They’re like an odd band of merry misfits.

“Li, can you call my mum?”

“I called her hours ago Lou.” Liam looks aghast at the suggestion that he might have neglected to call her thus far. “I’ve been texting her updates but she had to stay with the kids. Dan’s out and she couldn’t find a sitter. She’s been panicking of course but she calmed down a little once I told her you were out of the woods.”

Louis just nods, his body lead heavy. All of this talking is making his head throb and he would really like a nap about right now. A few minutes later a doctor comes in to check his vitals. He stays quiet, just humming and answering the questions he’s asked as the check-up continues, listening to the buzz of the other boys around him.

Zayn and Harry are still whispering to themselves and Louis can only pick up a few words here and there. Harry seems to be upset about something, sniffing quietly. Is he crying? Louis squints, trying to get a better look. He has his contacts in but his eyes are still a little blurry and fuzzy. He makes out Zayn placing a hand onto Harry’s shoulder, turning him inwards into a tight hug. Huh. Odd. 

He reminds himself to ask Niall about that later. For now he has his two boys, one snuggled into his side and the other sitting at the end of his bed like a loyal basset hound and that’s all the invitation he needs to get in some more sleep.

“Night boys” he mutters, sleep already overtaking his tired mind.

He vaguely registers a chorus of good nights and a kiss on his forehead before he drifts off into a sleep haunted by sad green frog eyes.

 

 

 

When Louis next wakes up, the five boys have all gone and in their place is his mum looking down at him with worried eyes. Seeing his eyelids flutter open, she all but leaps to attention, frantically pushing the buzzer next to his bed. He can’t help but laugh a little.

“Morning mum.” His voice comes out awfully croaky and he almost wishes he’d taken up Harry on his earlier offer of water. His mum seems to read his mind though and is round his bed in a flash, pushing a cup of cool water towards his lips.

Gulping down a few sips of water, he sits up gingerly.

“Where’d the boys go?”

His mum is running a cold hand through his hair and it feels amazing. He almost purrs into the touch but stops himself just in time. He’s 18 after all, can’t be seen to be too much of a pussy – pun fully intended.

Setting the water carefully on the table, she gestures towards the doors. “Sent them home early this morning. Had a dreadful time trying to get rid of the curly-haired one though. He didn’t want to leave your side. We practically had to forcibly remove him.”

Louis bites back a laugh. He barely knows Harry – and as a rule he hates rich kids – but he can’t help but like him. What a sweetheart, not wanting to leave. Bless his heart.

“We only managed to get him as far as the cafeteria. He’s down there now, has been for the last few hours.”

Louis’ eyes widen. Why on earth is Harry still here? He understands that guilt makes people do funny things, but Harry had known that Louis was okay – had seen him talking and laughing with his own eyes. Why the hell didn’t he go back to his undoubtedly fancy mansion and get a good night’s sleep in his princess bed? Louis sure as hell doesn’t understand.

There are a few nurses coming into the room to tend to him, so his mum rises from her chair, stretching out her legs. She turns to head towards the door and tells him she’ll be back in a few minutes. Louis just nods back at her.

He feels much better. The aching in his ribs has subsided significantly, and his head is no longer pounding. He asks the nurse what’s actually wrong with him and it’s as he suspected: a few broken ribs and a suspected concussion, hence why they kept him overnight.

Louis sighs. He guesses he won’t be playing soccer again for the next few weeks. Bollocks. The team is bad enough with him, let alone without him. Without him they’re absolutely screwed. Sure, Niall can stop goals better than most… but he sure as hell can’t be scoring the goals from his position as the keeper down the other end of the field. There goes their entire season down the drain.

The nurses poke and prod at him for a while, then apparently satisfied that he isn’t going to up and die on them, leave him alone in the room.

He has a while to ponder over the past twenty four hours. So far his day (can you even call it a day?) has consisted of going to work, wanting to kill himself at work, going to Zayn’s mansion, wanting to kill himself from being soaked, nearly being killed (but not by himself), some weird twilight zone stuff in a hospital room with his two best mates plus his best mate’s crush and the nearly-killer (which Louis thinks sounds much better than manslaughterer) and now waking up again to find he has broken ribs and a concussion. Can this day get any weirder?

The answer to this question is apparently yes when it’s not his mum that comes back into the room but none other than Nearly-Killer Apple & Cinnamon Frog-Eyes Harry. He looks exhausted – skin pale with dark panda rings. And Louis’ early theory about Harry crying is confirmed by the bloodshot puffy eyes and the tear stains marring his pretty cheeks.

Louis’ heart clenches. He doesn’t know this boy but he wants to hug him close and let nothing ever make him cry again. He’s not sure if that’s the concussion talking or not but in a rare show of compassion, he pats the bed next to him.

Harry looks hesitant and scared so Louis shuffles over a little, making more room then patting the bed again. He seems to get the message this time since he slowly makes his way to the side of the bed and crawls up gingerly. Louis pulls the warm body closer, drawing him into a cuddle. Harry is stiff at first, doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. But slowly he relaxes, tucking his head into Louis’ neck. Louis buries his nose into the curls, breathing in deeply. He feels like a bit of a creep. Technically, he’s sniffing a stranger’s hair. Hell, he doesn’t even know Harry’s last name.

But after the night they’ve had, he thinks they could probably both use a good cuddle.

Eventually they both pull back, Harry shifting to lay his head on the pillows. It occurs to Louis that this is the first time in forever that he’s shared a bed with a boy but he pushes that from his mind quickly. Because no, this isn’t like that, this isn’t like that at all.

 “Harry?”

Harry makes a quiet hum, his eyes closed.

“What’s your last name?”

He turns his face towards Louis, green eyes meeting blue. They study each other quietly neither saying anything. Harry seems to be in no hurry to answer his question and Louis wonders if there’s a reason for his hesitance.

“How about you answer me a question first Lou?”

The easy use of his nickname should be strange from a near-stranger, but somehow with Harry, it just feels right. More than right even. It sends warm shivers up Louis’ spine that are nothing to do with any of his injuries, and everything to do with the pretty boy lying next to him on the bed.

“… What’s in it for me?” Of course Louis can’t let this one go without pushing his luck a little.

Harry stares back at him openly. They’re only inches apart now, so close Louis can feel Harry’s hot little puffs of breath on his lips.

“What would you like?”

Louis contemplates. He likes this boy in front of him. He knows he does. Whatever reservations he may have about Harry’s background, he knows he really likes him – even after he’s run him over with his car.

Louis licks his lips. “I’d like a kiss please.”

It seems that this is all the invitation Harry needs before he’s pressing his lips to Louis’. They’re warm and a little bit chapped but they move in a perfect tango with Louis’ own. The kiss is the opposite of chaste, becoming hot and heavy in seconds. Louis nips at Harry’s bottom lip, asking for access that’s immediately granted, their tongue’s eagerly intertwining. It’s wonderful, and Louis thinks that he might like to do this with Harry for a very long time to come.

They finally draw back, foreheads resting together as they gasp, panting for air.

“Lou do you-“. His mum stops abruptly, surveying the scene on the bed. They’re both terribly rumpled, hair sticking up at odd ends and lips wet with saliva. They couldn’t be any more obvious if they tried. “Right. I’ll just come back. Be safe darling!”

Louis wants to die. Could his mum possibly be any more embarrassing? He covers his face in his hands, ignoring Harry’s giggles.

“Your mum is lovely Lou. Wish I had a mum like yours.”

Harry sounds wistful but he’s smiling, eyes wide in happiness.

“Styles.” He murmurs quietly. “My surname is Styles.”

Louis turns on his side, careful to be gentle with his ribs. Harry Styles: he feels like he should know that name from somewhere. “Well Harry Styles… do you know what else is lovely?”

Harry shakes his head, curls flopping around like a halo, dimples coming out in full force.

“You.”

Louis thinks he should get hit by cars more often if it will always lead to things as wonderful as Harry Styles.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I realise there are quite a few loose ends here. As mentioned, would be open to going back and tying up those loose ends at some stage but due to time, thought it was probably a good place to finish the story for now.


End file.
